Gordito
by plumpthighs
Summary: We should all love the body we're in. Unless you want a different one. Spamano.


"Have you lost weight?" asked Antonio conversationally, his tone lifting entirely as he ran his hands back up and down Lovino's torso again to feel the difference. Not in any romantic, seductive gesture. He was like a little kid at a touch tank, poking away at a crab. Lovino rolled his eyes. At least he'd finally noticed, now that he was practically running his tongue on what had once been flab.

"Yes, thank you for noticing," he answered dryly, trying to take Antonio's hands in his own and coax them back into their smooth, sure strokes across his skin. He hadn't waited months to talk about his new fitness regime. Antonio didn't praise him, just hummed, and gradually began to set a more leisurely pace again. The moment had passed, or so Lovino thought, so he closed his eyes and set his head back. He felt those strong, steady hands massaging at his sides and downwards, skipping the main event, so to speak, in lieu of careful attention to his thighs…

Antonio tutted.

_Tutted. _

"Why did you do that?" He went on, cleverly noting the danger in pursuing the topic and using his mouth to kiss Lovino's skin lightly, so he had an excuse to think before giving a response. He noticed that his legs were firmer too – not sculpted. Just more toned.

"Because," shrugged Lovino, who wasn't quite getting the response he had expected, and consequently, felt even more vulnerable than before. He didn't intend to curl away from Antonio's touch, but he did so. "I didn't like it before…"

Antonio frowned and gripped his waist, pulling him back, trailing the kisses up over his boxers, to where there would usually be a little muffin top – now, a smooth dip and curve. "I liked it before," he muttered, letting his fingers run over Lovino's ribs in a glissando, and settling his head on his stomach for just a second. Not as comfortable as it was supposed to be. Still Lovino, still the same heat and smell, but the shape was unfamiliar. "Either is perfect, love," he added quickly, feeling even more resistance. He was being so harsh, it probably took a lot of work, and a lot of strength for Lovino to address the issue.

Above all else, Antonio was a hypocrite if he had spent years telling Lovino that he'd love him no matter his size or shape, to have him comfortable in his own skin, if he openly preferred his body a little less trim. He raised his head again and cast an eye over his lover's abdomen, trying to remember how he had felt the first time he had been allowed to see it and touch it like this, trying to imagine what he would have felt like to have seen this body, rather than the one he had.

It was exactly the same. He loved him as much. It didn't make the blindest spot of difference to Antonio what the body he was making love to looked like, as long as he woke up beside it the next morning.

Fortunately for both of them, he decided to show it, and the response was just as enthusiastic.

Unfortunately for Antonio, he didn't wake up beside anyone at all.

He heard Lovino shuffling through his suitcase – still packed, forgotten in the corner – and sat up groggily, raising a hand to cast a shadow across his poor, tired eyes… were the blinds always open so early? Were they _ever _open so early?

"Lovino?" He croaked, getting nothing but a hum in return. Communication was key in every relationship. "What's happening?"

"Going for a jog," came the reply, and Antonio may have stretched to say his tone was eager. Perky, even, which worried him immensely. His Lovino wasn't a morning person. He was barely an afternoon person. He smiled and patted the sheets, laughing nervously.

"Don't be silly, come back to bed…" he murmured, being completely ignored as his boyfriend padded around in his underwear, already showered. "We'll go out for a walk later, love, it's too early…"

Lovino scoffed as he pulled on his shirt. "Speak for yourself. I'll be back in an hour, two at most. Just go back to sleep if you're going to whine about it-"

Antonio raked a hand through his hair and flopped back into his pillow, groaning under his breath. "I wanted to spend time with you-"

"We'll spend time together _later_," scolded Lovino, tutting and pulling on his trainers. Antonio glanced over – they were new and white and expensive-looking. He rolled his eyes.

"I liked you better when you were lazy…" he muttered, shuffling over and turning his back on Lovino. He heard a frustrated sigh and the unsatisfying, soft clap of the case be closed over.

"Well, I like me better like _this_," replied Lovino, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the back of Antonio's head, waiting for him to turn around and apologise, which he didn't. "It's _my_ body, so the only opinion that matters is _mine_."

Since he was lying on his side, Antonio's shrug was awkward and restrained, but it was still there, and it made Lovino twitch. "Fine, fine, do what you want," he mumbled. "I'll be here when you get back. Obviously. I don't get up early like you do-"

The bedroom door had never slammed, really, because the carpet made it stick a little, but Lovino would always jerk it slightly in the frame when he was closing it so that it would make a noise if he was upset. The bang echoed off of the walls and Antonio shrugged again, frowning and wriggling into his lonely, lazy little cocoon.


End file.
